Chapter 227: Frail mortal [BONUS]

Encrid did not move.

The room was dark. The lamp on the table had burned out, leaving only a thin strip of grey night sky visible through the window. Beyond it lay the garden, where the plum tree swayed gently in the wind.

He could hear his heartbeat. He could hear the leaves rustling outside.

Nothing else.

Yet the feeling remained.

It was not fear. Encrid knew what fear felt like, and this was something different. It was quieter, almost natural, as though he had always known it was there but had only just learned to notice it.

It reminded him of knowing where his hand was in the dark. He did not need to see it or touch anything to understand that it was there. The knowledge simply existed.

Encrid lay still and concentrated on that feeling.

Gradually, he began to understand where it was coming from.

Beyond the window. Across the garden. Past the plum tree.

At the top of the garden wall.

"There."

He remembered the effect of his new title. Dragon Tamer allowed him to sense his familiar at all times, even when it was hidden from everyone else.

For the past ten days, he had been too consumed by pain to notice anything beyond his own body. Now that the pain had eased enough for him to think clearly, he could finally feel it.

The dragon was here.

Encrid considered the situation carefully.

The Reaper had not mentioned anything. Neither had the Sage. Sera had spent the afternoon playing in this very garden, laughing beneath the plum tree, and she had apparently noticed nothing unusual.

Yet the dragon was sitting on the wall of one of the most secluded gardens in the Empire.

It was hiding in plain sight, right in front of the Reaper of the Blue Moon, and no one knew it was there.

Encrid wet his lips.

"You’re on the wall, aren’t you?" he said quietly.

There was no answer.

He waited. The silence stretched on until he began to wonder whether the connection was one-sided, or whether the dragon was simply refusing to acknowledge him.

Then a voice spoke.

It did not come through the window, nor did it reach him through his ears. Instead, it appeared in his mind, clear and cool, as though someone had spoken directly into his thoughts.

{ Frail mortal. }

Encrid stopped breathing for a moment.

He had expected the voice to be deep and powerful, perhaps like the rumble of distant thunder. Instead, it sounded young, almost like a child’s voice.

But the way it spoke carried something much older.

There was no hesitation or uncertainty. The single word had been delivered with such absolute confidence that it sounded less like an insult and more like a simple statement of fact.

"You can talk," Encrid whispered.

{ You can hear. That is the only surprising thing here. }

For a thing that sounded like a kid, it sure spoke harshly.

"Are you hurt?"

A pause followed.

{ Do not presume to question me, Frail mortal. }

Encrid closed his mouth.

He remembered the dragon on the bridge. Its scarred back, its damaged wing, and the chains that had forced its jaws open. He remembered how it had struggled to move and how much strength it had spent trying to protect itself.

The dragon had been badly injured. There was little doubt about that.

It simply refused to admit it.

’All right,’ Encrid thought. ’I won’t ask.’

"I used a seal on you at the bridge," he said. "It was called a Familiar Seal."

{ I know what it was called. }

"Then you understand what it means."

I understand what you think it means.

The voice grew colder.

{ I am no one’s familiar, Frail mortal. The seal holds because I permit it to hold. Do not mistake my patience for a leash. }

Encrid considered that response.

The system had clearly announced that the binding was successful. It had even given him the title Dragon Tamer. Nothing in those notifications had suggested that the dragon could simply choose to ignore the arrangement.

However, he was not going to argue with a dragon about the finer details of their binding while lying helpless in bed.

"Understood," he said.

The silence that followed felt less hostile than before.

It was not agreement, but Encrid decided that it was enough for now.

? ? ?

The following morning, Encrid asked the Reaper to open the window wider.

The old man did so without asking why. Afterward, he stood beside the bed for a moment and looked out into the garden.

Encrid watched the top of the wall.

There was nothing there except old grey stone and a thick strip of green moss. The dragon was nowhere to be seen.

However, the moss had been pressed flat in one long, narrow patch. It stretched from the corner nearest the house to the middle of the wall, as though something heavy had rested there throughout the night.

The Reaper looked directly at it. ℴ𝒗ⅇ𝑙.

Then he turned away and asked whether Encrid wanted some water.

"Yes, please."

The Reaper poured a cup and helped him drink. Encrid took his time, since even lifting his head caused discomfort.

He did not look at the wall again.

Still, the sight had left him with a strange feeling.

The Reaper of the Blue Moon was not an ordinary man. He could cross a guarded courtyard without leaving a footprint, approach someone without making a sound, and kill more Roamers in a single breath than most warriors could manage in an entire battle.

Yet he had looked straight at a dragon’s resting place and seen nothing but moss.

Encrid could not help wondering what that said about the dragon.

Or about the power that allowed it to hide.

? ? ?

The dragon spoke to him again that night.

Encrid had been awake for some time, waiting to see whether it would return. He had almost decided that the previous conversation had been a one-time occurrence when the familiar voice appeared in his mind without warning.

{ You stared at the wall this morning. Do not do that. }

"Why not?"

{ Because the old man who carried you here is not a fool. If you stare at nothing long enough, he will begin to wonder what you see. }

Encrid almost smiled.

The dragon had a point. The Reaper might not be able to see through its concealment, but he was observant enough to notice when Encrid was behaving strangely.

"I’ll be more careful."

He paused before asking his next question.

"Will you let me see you?"

{ No. }

"Can I ask why?"

{ You may ask. }

The dragon waited a moment before adding, { I will not answer, though. }

Encrid let the matter rest.

He already had an idea of the reason. The dragon had been chained, starved, and forced to endure injuries that would have killed most creatures. It had been made to kneel before the horde, and whatever had happened to it before the battle, the experience had clearly left its mark.

Proud creatures did not like others seeing them in a weakened state.

Wolves hid their injuries. Hawks withdrew when their wings were damaged. Men often did the same, even when hiding their wounds only made matters worse.

There was no reason to expect a dragon to behave differently.

Encrid did not intend to force the issue. For now, knowing that the dragon was nearby was enough.

There was, however, one question he could not put aside.

"The Reaper carried me here," he said. "It must have taken several days. I don’t know exactly how long I was unconscious. How did you get here?"

The dragon did not answer immediately.

The silence lasted longer than it had during their previous conversations. Encrid lay still, waiting, and eventually began to think that it had decided not to answer at all.

Then the voice returned.

{ I flew here, it wasn’t that hard to follow that old man. }

Encrid stared into the darkness.

He remembered the dragon at the edge of the Riven, barely able to stand after spending so much of its strength. He remembered the damage to its wing and the terrible condition of its body.

It had been injured badly enough that every movement must have caused pain.

Yet it had followed them.

The Reaper had carried Encrid across the distance between the Riven and this secluded estate. The journey must have taken days, and the old man was among the fastest and most dangerous people Encrid had ever encountered.

The dragon had somehow kept up with him.

It had followed them across unfamiliar country, all while remaining hidden from everyone around it.

"You must have-"

{ Do not speak of it. }

The voice was quiet, but its tone left no room for argument.

Encrid stopped.

He understood that the dragon did not want his sympathy, and he had no intention of offering it against the creature’s wishes.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The wind moved through the plum tree, and its branches scraped softly against one another.

Then the dragon spoke again.

Its voice was quieter than before, though Encrid could not tell whether that meant anything.

{ When you can stand without that old man holding you up, we will discuss terms. }

"Terms for what?"

The answer came slowly, with a deliberate pause between each word.

{ For whether I allow you to live. }

Encrid remained silent.

He had expected the dragon to be difficult. He had expected pride, suspicion, and perhaps a refusal to acknowledge the binding between them.

He had not expected to be threatened with death by the very creature the system had named his familiar.

Then again, the system had never promised him obedience.

Encrid let out a slow breath and settled more comfortably against the pillow, ignoring the ache in his ribs.

He had eleven days of unconsciousness behind him, a damaged Star, and no idea what had happened to most of the people he had fought beside.

Now he had a dragon hiding on the garden wall, one that apparently considered his continued existence a matter still open for discussion.

For the first time since waking, Encrid found himself almost looking forward to recovering.

He had a feeling that the conversation about terms would be an interesting one.

? ? ?